


philautia

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Possession, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27946838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: "If an Ascian possessed me, I’d just be like ok take it from here good luck man" - Warrior of Light
Relationships: Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 18
Kudos: 125





	philautia

**Author's Note:**

> can't wait for tomorrow personally can not physically wait for tomorrow

You've been fishing for the better half of the last day.

It's been pouring for the last four. 

Typically you don't mind spending time in the woods, The Shroud is familiar in a way few places really are, and ever since you've gotten back from the First, since everyone else got back too, you've been clinging to that familiarity. You've flung yourself into a new hobby, to take your mind off things, but lucky for you, fishing can happen pretty much anywhere, which is why you've been doing it here.

When you fish, and you do fish for hours, your mind just goes blank and empty. It's astonishingly mind numbing, and makes an astonishing amount of money, and aside from the worried glances the other Scions give you when you see them after days at a time, there's really no downside to speak off. 

You get so caught in the moment to moment of waiting for your rod to bob that you don't even notice the cold and the wet for the most part. It's the perfect activity for someone who definitely isn't extremely sad and tired all the time. Because that can't be you, right, you're the hero! Your friends are all back and safe and sound! And you definitely didn't murder a child, maybe! Or realize that some ancient version of you summoned a god into existence and actively caused all the harm and suffering in every reality. You didn't. Definitely didn't do that. And definitely don't continue to do that. 

So anyway, fishing is good. If you had to think of a complaint, your tackle box is getting pretty heavy lately, so maybe you could clean that out sometime, but other than that. 

It's been great. 

When did the sun set? 

You send a blip of aether to the end of your rod and it glows a gentle green across the surface of the lake you're standing at. You feel a tug, finally, and start reeling in, gripping the rod and tugging every few seconds- whatever it is feels big so you dig your heels in. The rain beats down as hard as it does, masking the movement of your line so you let yourself pull harder. 

You can almost feel it break the surface as something pushes down on the back of your neck, hard enough to break your concentration for just long enough that the fish gets too much give and rips the rod clean out of your hands. 

You spin around, already swinging at thin air. 

“Who the fuck-” No one is around, probably not for miles, and certainly not at this time of night, not in this weather. 

“Oh come now. You almost sound unhappy to see to me, hero.” 

You're used to people monologuing at you, dramatic and from the shadows. And you'd be fine with that, any excuse to beat up the fucker that made you lose your expensive rod to the lake. You've need a good fight for a while now, maybe. 

Except you're the one who said that. 

Your mouth opened, and those words came out, and sure you've been standing out in the rain in the dark for hours and who knows when you've last eaten (or slept) but you've never hit this degree of- 

“You think so quickly for how little you talk.” You say again- or rather someone- “Even in your more animated moods, I would never have assumed you do so much thinking.” 

You've been possessed, it seems. 

“Yes.” Your voice says, gentler, and you feel your hand lift up and someone else spread your fingers before clenching them tightly. “How did I never notice how nice your hands are?” There's really only one ascian who's ever been this familiar with you and his name catches in your throat. You laugh at yourself, turning to look around as if this is just a normal thing that happens. “It's alright, you can say it, I promise I'll hardly be offended.” 

“You're dead.” 

“Yes.” 

“I killed you.” 

“Yes.” It comes slower this time, and something clenches in the center of your chest.

“Have I finally lost it?” 

“No. Well.” He makes you look down at yourself, and then lifts your face up to the rain. “Arguably.” 

“How are you-” 

“The veil is thinner here, someone had opened the lifestream in these woods before.” You think about Y'shtola for a moment, her body slipping back into reality, and you laugh again. “Twice? She's quite the abnormality, isn't she-” 

“How are you-” You ask again and your hand comes up to your mouth, muffling yourself. 

“Possession is easy.” You're whispering now, against your palm. “I only had to find you. And it's easier now. Though I must say, I expected you to be better taken care off.”

“Why?” Why now, why here, why not at any moment before- 

“Well.” Your shoulders sag, and all of a sudden you start to feel the exhaustion you probably should have been feeling for a long time. “I would hardly want you too keel over because of your agonies.” 

You feel the cold now, the wet, sinking into you and causing you to shiver. Or maybe your hands are trembling because you've not eaten in how ever long. 

“What have you done with yourself- mm?” Your hands lift up again, pressing to your face. “I can hardly let you waste away for your own neglect. You're much too important.” 

“I'm sorry.” You say because you've wanted to tell Emet-Selch that for a long time. “For-” 

“You can be sad when you're warm. I'm rather fond of being sad in furs. Or in a warm bed. Love being miserable in a good bed.” Your legs start moving- you stumble for the first step, “Out of practice-” he says, but it's a smooth walk all the way back to The Roost. 

He orders you a room, with a tub of hot water to be brought in, and a full dinner an hour later. 

“Hades-” You say and your mouth shuts itself with out even the aid of your hands this time. 

You're let into your usual room, and the tub is steam in the corner. 

“Hades-” You try again when you're alone and you feel your head shake. 

“I'm taking care of you.” He says, and it's not like you can argue. He smiles for you and starts tugging at the wet fabric of your clothes. “Has anyone ever taken care of you before?” 

Your life flashes before your eyes, like he's looking through your memories, trying to find instances of kindness. Your can barely breath as you both come to a realization that no, not since you were a child, and isn't that pathetic. He forces you too sigh, to breath and lets you lean forward against the rim of the tub. 

The warmth feels good- You haven't had a hot bath since The First- everything else has been dunking yourself in rushing rivers because it's faster. 

“I'm sorry.” You say again, quietly and he sighs, exasperated. You can feel it- 

“These dramatics hardly suite you.” Your fingers unbutton your clothes, and you forget to feel any kind of way about it other than sad. He nudges you- and it does feel almost external, like someone prodding a finger against your shoulder, and you get into the hot water. “Isn't this better?” 

You lay there in silence and he seems content to lay with you. You wish you could see him- that he was really here, that you hadn't killed him. That just once diplomacy could actually have worked. 

“Did you use to do this for me?” You don't know why you're asking. The me in that sentence isn't even really you. Or the other way around rather, because Azem was more parts of you than you are of them. 

“Ha- You'd go to Hythlodaeus more often than me. On more than one occasion I would get mad because I thought you were-” Your hand waves in the air and it's so him you're almost shocked your wrist can actually bend like that. “Well. You weren't stepping out.” 

“Was it because I didn't want to worry you?” 

“That does sound like you, doesn't it? All your heroics.” And then he forces you to take a deep breath and dunks your body under the water. You sit until your lungs start burning and then you're allowed to come up for air. “I only ever insisted once.” 

And then you're fed a memory, overlaid one of yours, of two figures, laid a top one another in a long pool. The figure the other was leaned on covered the other's face, and they were laughing about something- Nabriales, it sounds like. 

“You had left for a year, and when you finally came back the you had said the trip hadn't gone as well as you hoped. I can hardly recall a time I've seen you made more miserable.” 

Azem seemed happy beside him. 

“I'm sorry.” You say again and now you roll your eyes. 

“Bit late for it now.” There's a knock at the door and you get up to let your dinner in. The robe the inn had was soft though not soft enough to keep Emet-Selch from commenting- and then you were sat slowly eating. 

“Hey.” 

“Go ahead.” 

“Were you watching me the entire time?” 

“After you got back.” He swallows. “It's been astonishingly dull.” 

“It's felt dull.” You take bread in your hands and rip it aimlessly. He lets you, even if he thinks its a waste of time. It's easy to imagine a life with him, somehow, and you can't tell if it's Azem in the room with you or your own gut feeling. “I keep hoping your great grandson will come threaten to kill someone again.” 

You huff a laugh and your hands drop the utensils with a clatter. 

The confusion doesn't last long when you make to hold your own hand. You right hand, which has been heavy and out of your control loosens for a moment. He squeezes your hand and when you squeeze back its of your own volition. 

You sit like that for a long time, in the quiet of the room. Someone comes by eventually to take the food and the tub out of the room, so you're left to sit on the bed in silence. It's comfortable, despite the absurdity of the situation. You can't help but wonder if Lahabrea and Thancred had any moments like this, which sends Hades into a fit of laughter. When he calms down, the smile that stays on your face is yours. 

“Will you still be here tomorrow?” 

“I think you'll be quite busy, tomorrow. You won't need me.” 

“Even without knowing the circumstances of what tomorrow may bring, I disagree.” Because it's you, you think. 

“Well.” You fall back on the bed, still holding your own hand. “If you come wasting your time with fish in the Twelveswood, maybe I'll ensure another fish steels your fishing rod.” 

“It cost me a good deal of gil-”

“What a travesty.” As dry as ever, but you're both smiling. He closes your eyes for you, and you feel him try and slip away a few minutes later, the same pressure at the back of your neck. “Take better care of yourself.” 

“Mm-” You say very intelligently as he plunges you into a full nights sleep. 

The morning is busy and hectic, just like he said it would be.

It's easier to carry yourself than it has been a while.

**Author's Note:**

> comments always very very appreciated
> 
> find me on[ tumblr ](http://iamalivenow.tumblr.com/) and [ twitter](https://twitter.com/miurmiurmiur)


End file.
